


Preserving the Future

by Callmesalticidae



Series: Portraits from the Revolution [2]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Alternate Universe, Environmentalism, Gen, Genetic Engineering, Post-Canon, Reactionism, Secrets, Worldbuilding, Yeerk Culture, Yeerk-Andalite Relations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:11:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3215378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmesalticidae/pseuds/Callmesalticidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Wassael 413. You are a Yeerk. And you are supposed to be dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preserving the Future

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadow_wasserson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_wasserson/gifts).



> Wassael 413 was (sans name) created by my buddy Shadow-wasserson, and dubbed accordingly.

Your name is Wassael 413. You are a Yeerk. And you are supposed to be dead.

You are riding the Rhine-Ruhr S-Bahn from Flughafen Düsseldorf, the nearest international airport to where you are going. You have… not friends. No. You don’t have friends. But there are people waiting for you in Dortmund.

Officially you are Nylund 925 of the Berkeley Pool, here on loan to the Düsseldorf Pool. You have business which nobody could object to, except for a few human fanatics and most of the Andalite population. But they object just to the fact of your species’ continued existence, so you can’t help that.

Many Yeerks seem to worship Cassie Taylor for her part in saving your collective identity as a species. You find their dedication to be going a little too far. But you appreciate the service that she performed for your species— that she performed for the entire universe, unknowingly— and you can respect her as an individual.

You would have liked to be able to converse with her, one on one. She also recognized the importance of a healthy ecosystem, the near-sanctity of biodiversity. Perhaps she would have even lent support for your cause. You like to think that she would have understood.

Not like any of these fools. Ingrates, vermin, filth, the lot of them. You can almost feel yourself choking on them, forced to breathe the same air as they do. So short-sighted that they may as well be blinder than a naked Yeerk.

None of them notice, of course. You are good at putting on a face. Even the host which you were given for the duration of your stay is none the wiser. You carried on the niceties of conversation for a few minutes and then, claiming a need for focus in preparation for the coming job, politely asked for the exchange to cease. You don’t have the patience for small talk.

Carla was more than willing to acquiesce. She was well used to this need, and with your permission she took charge of motor functions until you needed them. So you get to look around the train as she does, and play a game of Spot the Andalite. It’s a way to pass the time. It reminds you of a joke that you first heard from someone of the Montreal Pool.

Question: How can you tell an Andalite tourist from a Taxxon _nothlit_? Answer: The Andalite is the one stuffing its face.

It’s only a joke amongst your species. Most humans don’t even know that some Taxxons chose not to take python form. Those that do, are rarely aware of how many chose to be humans. And there are not enough remaining who can appreciate the undertone of venom in the joke.

Besides, it would be impolitic to reveal that there was any animosity remaining between your two species. Never mind how often the Andalites revealed, and continue to reveal, their gross sense of self-importance. To start with, no Yeerk or Taxxon was given the opportunity to become a _nothlit_ in Andalite form.

And you know that it isn’t just your side that has refused to forget past offenses. You were told to expect a greater number of Andalites here in Germany, where the bulk of your species resides, and you are finding it to be true. Not all of them can be simple tourists. They are still playing the long game, just as you are.

In some ways the war has simply changed form. Many, no doubt, even think that it has truly ended, but the leaders of both your species are better-informed. You are protected in part by the nations of Earth, swayed by the words of their beloved Cassie Taylor, but there were Yeerks on other worlds as well. Few know that there is a new genocide going on, of Yeerks being _forced_ to become nothlits.

Cassie Taylor gave the Pools money for renting hosts and building synthetic bodies, based on the Chee design. The Pools use some of it for this purpose, of course, but the majority of every Pool’s budget goes off-world in order to fund the relocation of other Yeerks. Earth plays sanctuary to many more Yeerks than any human suspects. Almost half of the population are refugees.

Perhaps the humans could be roused to anger. But that would not do for now. There are too many that could cause a problem, whose anger would not be turned against the true enemy, or who would not be angry at all. Much better to wait, until they have grown acclimatized to your presence and both of you have grown in numbers. Then you can reveal the plight of your species, and together you can _force_ the Andalites to back down.

Some think that the homeworld will soon fall to their depredations. You wonder what that would be like, a galaxy where the only true Yeerks to be found are on Earth. You would lose much of your ancient culture, you know, but… You yourself are not particularly concerned.

You are concerned with life itself, not culture. Perhaps it would be better to extinguish the old ways anyway, you think as Carla looks out the window. The landscape of this world is bright and wonderful. Even here, between the cities, there is much to find beautiful. The Empire would have converted it to their needs regardless, uncaring of how many species they destroyed. Much like humans, Andalites, Skrit Na, and others.

It is a good thing that the Empire fell.

Some of your partners, your allies-by-necessity, do not agree so much. Very few of the complete bigots remain. Such persons were too dangerous to be allowed to exist. You are not sure what was done with them, but “turned into cattle feed” wouldn’t be a bad guess. A few, you have heard, escaped off-world, but you haven’t heard so much as the least rumor that any are still operating on Earth.

There are other modes under which some would see the Empire operating, however. Some are willing to join with the humans on an equal basis to subjugate the rest of the galaxy. Part of you thinks that it wouldn’t be impossible to get the humans to see their side of things, especially after the Andalites are revealed for the cretins that they are.

Others would turn the Empire into an isolationist power, perhaps flying through uncharted regions of space, like Skrit Na hosted in robotic bodies. For them the resurrected Empire will be the framework of their new government. Others wish to return to take the homeworld, free it from Andalite oversight and instill a new regime, again modeled after the Empire. But you will have none of this.

You look on this world and you see the horrors that are being perpetrated against it. You remember the tales that you have heard, of the devastation wrought by the Andalites. Of how, with every supervolcanic eruption on the homeworld, the dice are rolled and its permanently-fragile ecosystem is threated with total destruction (and yet the Andalites wonder why your people were so desperate to leave, when they came to understand their situation).

Most of all you think of the Hork-Bajir, and you are convinced that you have the solution to it all.

No species can be faulted for existing in its natural sphere. The wolf kills the deer, the Andalite tramples the grass, and the Yeerk possesses the host. It is not only natural, it is a necessary step in your species’ reproductive cycle. Even now you must keep the Gedds among you, at least until such a time that you can synthesize the hormones and chemicals that presently come only from a Gedd host.

But this is the way that the universe is, and you intend to use your species’ natural gifts and proclivities to preserve the wonder that is life. Your dream is of a galaxy carefully-regulated by your species. If you could be made to believe in an ultimate designing agent then you would be convinced that the Yeerks had been created for just such a role. Under your guidance, your species will be the last word in ecosystem management.

Many, perhaps even most, will resist. You will break them. You will treat them kindly, and cooperative hosts will be given a measure of control, but the relationship will not be unlike that which exists between humans and their pets. And under your beneficent guidance you will not only preserve life but _spread_ it.

There are eight barren planets and one hundred and sixty-six barren moons in this solar system alone. The resurrected Empire will oversee a flowering of life here and in every other wasteland.

This is the dream that you dream, the secret wish that you have nurtured in your deepest thoughts since you first became a biologist, and which, with the Empire’s fall, you now have a chance of realizing.

You are taken out of your thoughts as the train slows down and Clara alerts you that you are approaching your destination. You take stock of your surroundings, pretend that you do not notice the Andalite spy sitting three rows ahead of you, and disembark as soon as you are able.

It is only a short walk from the station to the Dortmund Zoo, where your business lies. You flash your identification and pass through every checkpoint until you reach the animal clinic.  Inside, everyone has already been cleared out except for representatives of Düsseldorf Pool and their hosts. More than half of the board of management are either openly Yeerks or fronting for them.

“Nylund Nine-Two-Five, we thank you for coming,” someone says. You recognize him a moment later as Telpus 1093. His ID accessory is that of another Yeerk's, but you remember the way that he intones his voice from previous encounters with other hosts, and you know that you are not the only Yeerk who is supposed to be dead.

“And I thank you for your accommodations,” you reply, giving a curt nod. “Is your wolf ready for transfer?”

“Yes. Right this way.”

They lead you into another room, where the wolf waits, anesthetized and unconscious in a tub of water, with a specialized breathing apparatus over its face. According to your assignment papers it is suffering from some unknown ailment, some irritation or pain that cannot be accurately diagnosed. They want you to figure it out. According to your assignment papers.

By day and on every official document you are Nylund 925, the greatest veterinarian never mentioned in the news. A brute animal’s brain is usually too small for you to control it, but you can nevertheless interface well enough to get a personal look at its feelings and determine the nature of its pains and complaints. Many of your species do something similar for humans, as physicians and therapists.

But you are more than this. You are Wassael 413, a former geneticist of the Empire. You are familiar with the Empire’s experiments to uplift hammerhead sharks and produce from them a proper host species. The only reason that you are still alive is that you were not attached to the formal research team, but your partners felt it safest to “kill” you anyway. Just in case.

Their paranoia served you all well. Accidents have befallen some of your other colleagues. No one is mistaken about who is behind this. The Andalites know as well as you do how valuable your work is to the Yeerk species. In today’s world it would be impossible to manage a large-scale non-consensual hosting operation, and both humans and Andalites would be capable of detecting synthetic host bodies.

But if you can uplift common animals and bestow on them the necessary attributes then you will have at your disposal nearly unlimited numbers of untraceable host bodies. There are two hundred _million_ stray dogs in the world. But the potential only increases from there. The Dortmund Zoo is already run by the local pool, and other zoos are going the same way. Pods of cetacean hosts will be able to meet up with shipborne pools. Someday there will be ranches with their herds, Yeerks inhabiting cattle and horses until the time comes to move to new hosts at slaughter-time. There is no limit to what you will be able to do.

As you interface with the wolf’s brain, you know that you are close. You can almost, _almost_ direct its actions. You are very nearly there.

As a collective, the Pools seek only to ensure the safety of their people. Your closest partners, a conspiracy within the conspiracy, with as little control as you have, intend a Second Empire. But you know these beasts.

One day very soon you will complete your work and both Nylund 925 and her work will go up in flames, victims of more Andalite sabotage. You will retreat to the shadows and draw in old contacts, both Yeerk and human, and with the fruits of your research— oh yes, there will be a Second Empire. But it will conform to your vision alone. And all life will prosper for the sake of it, a great flowering that will spread across the universe and never end. 

The future is coming. You can almost hear it. 


End file.
